


Deference

by Anonymous



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Universe, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:50:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3600354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The rules were very simple.  Be still.  Eyes closed.  No talking.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>[A collection of canonverse ficlets, some connected and some not.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deference

"Stop moving."

Eren tucked his face further into his pillow, skin warming under Levi’s command. It was difficult not to squirm against Levi’s calloused palms as they slid across his back, over his ass, and down to the backs of his thighs. His breath hitched and he gripped the sheets. He had to try harder. 

The rules were very simple. Be still. Eyes closed. No talking.

With his defenses worn down, Levi was skittish. One wrong move and he’d be gone. Eren still wondered what made him stay at all. 

Was it penitence that brought his fingers to Eren's skin and regret that made him taste Eren's flesh? 

Eren knew he couldn’t ask. Levi always wore guilt like a noose around his neck, forever waiting for the world to pay him back. He was nothing like what anyone thought he was, attentive to everyone but himself. He gave and he gave and he gave. 

Eren thought maybe he wanted forgiveness when he settled into place on his knees, between Eren’s thighs. Their nightly trysts were a ritual. He repeated the process again and again, habitual even when being so lewd. All Eren need do was ask and Levi was there. 

Their routine never grew boring. Eren shifted right on cue. Still on his stomach, he pulled his arms closer to his head so he could rest his forehead above the straw mattress. He was ever dutiful and lifted his hips when Levi gently maneuvered his legs further apart. 

Eren craved Levi's touch, always hard before they even touched. His body expected it, yearned for it. He liked it when Levi bit into the flesh of his ass, just hard enough to sting. He gasped when Levi pulled his cheeks apart, choked when he slid a wet finger into his hole. Levi was never one for unnecessary preamble.

He pressed deep enough for Eren to bite the pillow, twisted his fingers inside, and then pulled back to nudge Eren’s legs even wider apart. Then he went back down again, Eren moaning before Levi's tongue even reached his skin.

When it slipped inside Eren was panting. He didn’t know if Levi enjoyed it because he truly liked it or if he just loved Eren’s reaction. He never complained, said Eren was clean. 

He was thorough and careful, alternating his tongue with two fingers when he wanted to hear Eren’s groans grow louder. 

Eren felt helpless and exposed in the best way. He never expected anyone to touch him the way Levi did – certainly never expected anyone to enjoy it and moan the way Levi did. 

It never took long for him to come that way, Levi’s tongue wet and foreign, moving inside him. He was done just as Levi’s palm folded over his erection, releasing on contact. 

His body fell limp on the soiled mattress. Every time it was an impossible second wave of arousal that overcame him when he heard Levi’s breath hitch behind him. 

Levi finished himself off that way, never taking it a step further. He forever denied Eren the opportunity to reciprocate. 

But Eren felt bold. He was tired but restless. He peeked over his arm with one eye and chanced a soft look, nose still buried behind his shoulder. 

Through the veil of his lashes, Eren became a voyeur. He studied the way Levi’s brow pinched and chest heaved. Levi’s eyes were unfocused and wild, skin tinged red and glistening in the dim light. He memorized every bead of sweat and loose strand of hair. Eren learned more of Levi’s secrets than he ever thought he’d know. 

When Levi spilled across his back, Eren decided he needed more. It was worth the risk. 

He’d demand what he wanted. He'd take what he could.

He met Levi’s gaze, holding the eye contact and outright defying their agreement in silent protest. Levi held still, his face still slack and strange. 

For one quiet minute, Eren held every drop of Levi’s regret against him. He garnered all the power.

But Levi always stayed. 

All Eren need do was ask.


	2. Kismet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains (implied) character death.

Eren had been attracted to Levi since he first laid eyes on him as an overzealous green enlistee with dreams far too big for the world. He was thirteen, earnest but ignorant, with a fading innocence that he guarded selfishly, against all the horrors that trailed behind him. 

Lust and longing remained whispered secrets in his ear, quiet murmurs in the shadows behind his eyes. 

He understood duty, admiration, and respect. He knew conviction and fortitude. To Eren, the world was a violent place, won by those who fought their way to the top of the food chain. Everything else faded beneath the haze of his own exaggerated blood lust. 

It wasn’t so much a surprise that his belly somersaulted when it was Humanity’s Strongest that caught his gaze over a crowd of onlookers. 

Mikasa eyed the blush on his cheeks with distrust. She still wished badly for him to change his mind about joining the Legion. “Let’s go,” she said, tugging his wrist with her blistered palms. Training was brutal in those early days.

Two years later he was left with the lingering memory of Levi’s fingers tugging his hair and the unforgiving taste of blood in his mouth. 

Eren wanted to take Levi apart, see where all the pieces bolted together and let Levi do the same to him. 

The truth was he lied that day after the trial. Part of him resented Levi, feared him. Everything was wrong and backward and nothing how Eren imagined it. He’d deserved to make his own choice.

And those were the things he thought of when he touched himself for the first time, Levi’s name sleeping on his tongue.

It became fuzzier as the years passed by. Eren’s first kiss went to Armin and the second to Mikasa. His love for them was indisputable but it never set fire to his skin.

When he kissed Levi it was the taste of blood. The smell of gun smoke. 

It only happened once and the world went dark.


	3. Whisper

“Can I touch you?”

Levi’s skin prickles at Eren’s sleep-tinged words. 

With a sigh, Levi peers at Eren’s face. He’s framed in the sliver of moonlight coming creeping through the fabric of their tent, big eyes impossibly blue against his flushed cheeks. 

It’s never been hard for Levi to ignore the vulgarity of horny teenagers on the field, but dragging him through hell has made Levi uncomfortably keen to his whims. 

He peels his gaze away and swallows. “Go back to sleep.”

Eren is unperturbed, wiggling close enough that he can nuzzle the juncture of Levi’s neck and shoulder. Years of loss and regret has done strange things to him, dissolving any apprehension he ever held toward Levi. Once he’s made up his mind, Eren will dig until his fingers bleed. 

It’s easy enough for Levi to assert that he has no need to get off, but apathy won’t dissuade Eren any more than listless conviction. Of all of his endearing qualities, Eren’s rigid persistence is the one thing no one can stifle. 

“Not now. Eren.” 

More and more often Levi’s admonishments come out thin and desperate, like he’s buckling under the weight of that energy. 

Eren responds by wrapping an arm around Levi’s waist and pressing his groin against Levi’s backside. “If you’re tired, you can just lay there.”

“Fuck off.”

Eren rests his forehead against Levi’s cheek and smiles against his skin. “Afraid someone might hear you screaming?”

His fingers absently stroke up and down Levi’s waist, gliding over his hips, tangling in the hem of his shirt. 

They’ve never talked about it out loud. The intimacy of their relationship is reserved for quiet moments behind closed doors, hands fumbling in the dark and poorly timed kisses. 

Levi concedes with his palm soft against Eren’s hip. If there is a day where Levi doesn’t want Eren, it’s the rarity. The warmth of Eren’s skin can ebb away even his most foul moods. 

“What are you thinking about?” Eren lays a kiss to the space just below his ear, pleased with Levi’s response.

For the hundredth time, Levi is thinking of the many ways he’s mishandled the situation.

He didn’t stop it when Eren first crawled into his bed on that cold winter night a month earlier. He didn’t stop it when Eren curled up next to him, wiggling beneath the covers, warm with wet cheeks and unwashed clothes. He didn’t stop it when Eren’s hands tangled in his shirt or when the tears on his collar turned to lips on his neck. 

Giving into Eren’s advances still broke at least two different and very important regulations, but Levi had concluded the alternative would annoy him even more. 

In a lifetime defined by hard lessons in consequence, this is a trivial indiscretion.

“Not yet.” Levi grabs Eren’s hand that is tugging impatiently at his waistband. Always too brash. “Kiss me first.”

Eren gives a soft laugh, eyes dancing in the faint moonlight. “You’re such a sap.”

Levi pinches his waist but Eren follows the request, tongue slipping past Levi’s lips in a soft movement. Levi was surprised to find Eren more gentle than he’d imagined. Of all the shameful fantasies he’d harbored, he didn’t expect Eren to be so thoughtful.

Levi is warmer with Eren. Pleasure is louder. Pain is stronger. Eren is the blood that flows beneath his skin, the heartbeat, his lungs, and the marrow deep in his bones. 

Levi hates it as much as he craves it.

Eren’s fingertips slide over his ribs. “I love you.”

He’s free with words. They tumble from his mouth like rainwater filling the cracks in cobblestone roads. The runoff makes Levi feel whole, until it washes away again.

“Prove it.” 

He doesn’t need to. Levi knows. Knows it so well, it’s carved into his skin.


	4. Chapter 4

Discipline was never an effective tool on Eren and the true fallacy is that Levi knew it from the moment they met. Brutal as his life made him, Levi has his fair share of soft spots. He’s learned to cover them without filling them, making sure he’s hard where it counts. The issue at hand is that Eren dug into each one before he even noticed. 

Levi is almost certain he’s the one being schooled.

After all, the motivating tool that does work for Eren is far more troublesome. He strives for Levi’s approval and affection above all else. Although Levi makes every effort to offer neither in spare, Eren is never deterred. Levi is left torn between frustration and fondness.

It’s no secret that Levi favors Eren and has never done much to hide the fact. What started as an obligation to keep a troublesome, headstrong kid alive - despite Eren’s best efforts to counteract that duty - became so ingrained on Levi that he can hardly remember what the hell he even did before Eren showed up. 

These days, Levi returns from his daily briefings with Erwin to find a pot of fresh tea sitting in a tin tray on his tabletop. In front of it are two porcelain glasses - the nice handpainted ones that Levi admired in the market a year earlier. A matching saucer with a dollop of honey. Crouched on the floor between his couch and table is Eren, dutiful to an extreme, flipping through supply ledgers and expedition reports. 

Levi has been told that his demeanor toward his subordinates is intimidating and his bad habit of staring over their shoulders renders them incompetent. Delegating tedious responsibilities, therefore, is generally too much trouble for the minimum payoff it earns him. He’s never expected anything more than the bare minimum when he doles out these small jobs.

Finding Eren’s yet unfaltering devotion still intact is annoying. Not that Levi is angry - by all means Levi is the one who asked him to pick up the extra responsibilities in the first place - but his sheer dedication undermines Levi’s sense of control. It makes him feel useless.

When he first approached Eren, he only wanted him to serve as a mouthpiece between himself and the newer recruits. Instead, Levi is now faced with the unwelcome intimacy that comes with someone knowing him well enough to answer his questions before they’re even asked. 

The problem is that Eren simply does the job too well. Levi is left with nothing to do but sit back, watch Eren toil away, and brood over his teacup.

“There won’t be much coverage for us between the gates and the meeting point. Didn’t the commander say there’s no guarantee the old base site is still usable?” 

Levi sets his tea on the tabletop and sighs. “The formation is designed to account for those risks. As for camp, we’ll improvise if we need to. Erwin always has a contingency.” 

Eren hums and traces his index finger back and forth between the two coordinates, mouthing words Levi can’t hear. His face is only inches above the map strewn across on the tabletop. He’ll likely go over it with Levi at least five more times before he’s satisfied he can relay the instructions onto the squad, and have answers ready for the obvious pitfalls. 

Levi admits his dedication is admirable and credits Arlert with instilling that level of studious attention. Eren may not have the eye to catch more subtle obstacles or the foresight to orchestrate complex maneuvers, but he’s plenty quick-witted when the situation demands it. 

Besides, it’s hardly necessary that he be able to rebuild an entire mission. Evaluating their risks is, first and foremost, Levi’s job.

“Do you know what that contingency is?”

Levi snorts. “No.”

Eren rolls his eyes and flips back to the schedule notes with an audible sigh. His voice is wry. “You know, Captain. This careless attitude of yours isn’t great for morale.”

“Oh?” Levi doesn’t remember when he stopped admonishing Eren for teasing him. Maybe his mistake was that he never did. He nudges Eren’s shoulder with the toe of his boot. “Sounds like you’re not passing on the right information. Don’t forget I got you brats through nine expeditions, unharmed. Don’t be talking so big.”

Eren laughs. “But that’s exactly why you keep me around, sir. I can talk you up better than anyone.”

Levi crosses his arms, struggling not to return Eren’s wild grin. “Try me.”

Levi never officially named Eren his second in command. When the suggestion was made, the higher-ups insisted that Eren remain a special case, permanently exempt from both official award recognition and the Legion’s chain of command. Levi hated making a fuss about those things but he hated unjust stipulations even more. The decision should have been his.

In return, he rationed a portion of his own stipend to give Eren what he deemed an equitable salary. Levi believes in both fairness and incentives where warranted, even at his own cost. The bigwigs in Sina, making their baseless decisions about Eren’s role in the Legion, could choke on their own fortune.

He doubts Eren has the wherewithal to even notice. He spends the extra income on frivolous trinkets to gift Mikasa and Armin, all awkward shows of affection that Levi, to his surprise, finds both trivial and endearing. And although Eren won’t admit to it, Levi can tell the tea he brewed for last three months is fresher than what they order in bulk from the Legion’s official supplier.

“Well, I could.” Eren shifts away from his paperwork and lays an arm over Levi’s thighs, moving his hand inward from his knees. “But then you’d know all my best secrets, Sir.”

“Go on,” Levi says, tapping his fingers impatiently on the back of his bench. He’s not one for games like these, but Eren wears a such delightfully wicked grin Levi can’t turn him down. 

And he falls in love with Eren just a bit more, each time they play.


End file.
